


Shantung

by beautifullyheeled



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Clubbing, First Time, M/M, Romantic Gestures, Sexual Tension
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-09-16
Updated: 2014-09-16
Packaged: 2018-02-17 15:11:57
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,900
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2314007
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/beautifullyheeled/pseuds/beautifullyheeled
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Needed to know this was reality…</p>
<p>Real.</p>
<p>True.</p>
<p>Sherlock was only academically knowledgeable, but he was still romantic.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Shantung

Needed to know this was reality…

_Real._

_True._

Sherlock was only academically knowledgeable, but he was still romantic. 

His fingers ran through John's hair finally laced into what he could grab. Their bodies pressed together, Sherlock could feel John straining his trousers, the heat and friction delightful. They were going to have cloth burns tomorrow but neither cared.

~~~~~~ 

He loved the way John looked fully tailored.

That is what had got them into this in the first place. So his dearest friend had allowed Sherlock this one thing; to buy him one suit each month. John had been going every three weeks for the last 10 months to pick them up, but had yet to wear one. When Sherlock asked, all he would say on the matter was something about being dressed within an inch of his life. 

Sherlock had noticed the night they had gone to an exhibit opening for a case, how John had kept a very keen eye on him. This just so happened to be the first time Sherlock really noticed John. Sherlock had taken him to get the proper attire for said endeavor, but had not seen the finished result until he saw John’s arrival that night. This was also the first time Sherlock observed John was watching him as well for the same reasons.

John continued to have the same effect on him, even with the ‘urban camouflage’ of jumpers, jeans, and boots that he would wear most cases. In their flat, in his pyjamas and dressing gown John had become infinitely more interesting. Sherlock had to get him properly attired once again.

Then finally, Sherlock had the perfect scenario.

John had gone up the stairs that night, Sherlock thought, actually looking forward to the evening. Sherlock had already finished his shower so John had jumped right in, was efficient, and left the shower the second he could to get dressed. He had never seen him that expedient except for on his ‘date nights’. This was just one more tick on Sherlock’s mental notes on the situation.

When John finally waltzed down the stairs, Sherlock thought his heart had stopped. He looked absolutely smashing, the resolution blue with black pinstripe suit brought John's eyes out so very well, and paired with the deep ultra black button up underneath he looked like sex incarnate. John knew it too.

Fucking Chuffed.

Sherlock dressed his best tonight as well, the Dolce ensemble he loved so much; the one John spent 7.2 seconds longer gazing at. Shaved his legs, put on hose and garter. He was going to impress the pants off his best friend.

_Literally._

_Oh God, how he was so very fine with this._

_Tonight was the night._

And then they had gone to that club.

He had known John would love that to go show off and, in an unspoken manner, to show Sherlock off as well. It was all set off in the club, the moving, swaying, general tomfoolery.  
They had needed a night out anyway. No one ever expected this which is why it was such a clever idea. Ultra-exclusive helped them keep their anonymity, once in they hit the floor.

Sherlock made sure that John was busy with him most the time, which was not very hard. John’s pulse quickened for other reasons than the dancing, his eyes dilated more due to proximity than alcohol content. John seemed he rather possessive, never really giving Sherlock a moment to dance with anyone else. 

Getting too hot, Sherlock hit the roof for a fag. Couple vodka tonics, scotch neat for his doctor while they finished their smoke, then back down they went to join the throng. 

It was like an orgy. All the heat mixed with the pheromones. People getting sex flush from the contact high not just because it was so hot.

He only had eyes for his doctor.

 

“Sherlock!” John came up for air, grazed the words across Sherlock’s open mouth. “Going to kiss you until you pass out, just fair warning.”

He took the John’s mouth back hungrily, devouring all thoughts of breath. Air, carbon, exhalation. Replaced it with much more complex compounds amylase, opiorphin, lactoperoxidase, tobacco, ellagic acid, whiskey lactone.

God could this man move empires with his mouth if he but wanted to.

_‘Yes,’_ Sherlock thought, _‘more of this wondrous man. He was going to have John mewling beneath him, crying his name.’_

His fingers ran through John's hair finally laced into what he could grab. Their bodies flush, Sherlock could feel John straining his trousers, the heat and friction delightful. They were going to have cloth burns tomorrow but neither cared. Sherlock moved his hips low, canting them together, lining himself up beside John the pressed close once again. He rubbed himself along the prominent ridge within the fitted suit inhaling through his gritted teeth.

“Cocktease.” John swore. “You are wearing entirely too much. I intend on remedying that. Right now!”

John grabbed Sherlock, ripped his loosened tie off and then yanked at his jacket. As he growled into Sherlock’s ear, John nipped the tender skin below it with some force and began unbuttoning his shirt one button at a time, going slowly, working the both of them into a fervor. Giddy from the high of the mixture of his endorphins and John’s pheromones, he continued to tease before smiling beatifically.

Sherlock broke their contact, moved swiftly away from the wall that he had pinned John to initially, and headed toward his bedroom's door. 

John was having none of it.

In a mere second Sherlock found himself up against the frame, slammed up hard bolstered by the wooden door, which had shuddered in the jam due to the force of the hit. 

_Oh, so he wanted to impress did he_?

John peeled his shirt halfway down his arms and twisted, pinning them behind Sherlock before taking his throat to task leaving love bites down his sensitive skin.With his skilled fingers John raked his bare chest, he seemed to revel in the feel of Sherlock pinioned losing himself without a care for the world.

“God! John please! You're not even going to get me in bed if you keep this up…”

“You. Do not. Skip. Away. Understood?”

To prove the point he forcefully grabbed Sherlock's cock and ground his palm in. Not enough to be uncomfortable or stop the sex, but enough to rip a shocking guttural moan out of him, leaving Sherlock completely at a loss for coherent thought.

“That's right, purr for me Sherlock.” John whispered, grinding with more force. “Again.”

Sherlock twisted and writhed, slammed up against his bedroom door.

“Fuck- JOHN!”

“Told you...I was going to kiss you...until you pass out. Now. Hold. Still.”

Sherlock was heaving and panting, flying apart, couldn't breathe. John seized the moment and took his mouth possessively. Deeply exploring, John stole the air away from his lungs, inhaling for them both.

The susurration was mind blowing.

“You are going to only want me. No one is capable of loving you, fucking you, like I am going to.”

Keeping one hand on the shirt to keep control, John grabbed with his right hand and turned the knob to the bedroom. The mahogany bed was made with deep navy bedding. Then, John noticed there were tea lights hung over the entire ceiling at varying heights, each holder a different jewel tone. On the bedside chilled champagne, two flutes and a single blue rose. 

At that moment Sherlock had never wanted anyone more for the million more new reasons. 

“I am going to own you.” 

John captured Sherlock's lips just as urgently once more. Bruised, gasping, Sherlock didn't give a care.

He took everything John gave.

They worked their way to the bed scrabbled to kick off shoes, strip away clothing. Sherlock felt as if he had to be in constant contact. The minute John pulled away, almost breaking the touch, he gravitated towards him, pulled by some sort of internal magnetism.

“Of all that is holy may have mercy on my soul…” John was taken away when he went to lay Sherlock's pale body fully on the bed and noticed the beautiful black shantung silk and lace garters and sheer hose. “I am going to worship you.”

Picking up a foot, starting with the pads of Sherlock's toes pressed kisses over his foot, ankle, and knee.

“Oh, you beautiful wreck…” And Sherlock was.

Practically hyperventilating from the sensory overload, Sherlock’s breath was set to a short staccato. John continued making noises of ascent letting Sherlock know that he was very happy with his choices. He made his way up Sherlock’s inner thigh then began to get demanding again. Nipping, sucking, open mouthed John tongued Sherlock from scrotum to tip before he dipped into the foreskin. He lowered his mouth, and sucked hard.

Sherlock cried out.

“You are going to fucking fly tonight, I promise.” John cooed against sweat matted curls.

Sherlock had set the seduction, but fucking hell, John was proving he would own the scene. He took more of Sherlock into his mouth, gently thrust two fingers into Sherlock, before stopping to nibble around Sherlock’s lace and silk edges and his inner hip. 

 

John breathed him in, licked the sheen of perspiration off Sherlock’s inner thighs. He was so enraptured, Sherlock knew he was practically incoherent, his hands fisted in the covers, as he writhed uncontrollably.

“So wonderful…”

Every law of time and space broke for him. John had moved inside, and he just went apart at the seams. They just were, John his anchorpoint. Everything else was drawn within their singularity.  
John had started back up Sherlock’s body licking, replacing the sheen from his body with his own pheromone laced breath, saliva. 

Sherlock would be completely marked as his by the end of this, he could tell John would make certain.

Softly moving his fingers through Sherlock's hair, John spoke of lust and heat, driving him up again to a frison state desperate to hear his lover's cues, how well fucked he would feel, how he wouldn’t be able to move, and how alright that would be. John rose slightly and kneeled between his thighs, he grabbed tight in Sherlock's curled sex splayed hair, and held as John pressed firmly guiding himself into Sherlock. 

“Try to stay relaxed.” He purred the words out comfortingly. “I’m right here.”

Sherlock's breath hitched. John pulled on his hip, raising him slightly to meet each thrust fucking Sherlock as if there were nothing else in the world. It was deep, hitched, almost perfect. His hands were all over John, trying to gain purchase, finally he grabbed a hold of one of John’s hands and held on for dear life as his world became heavy and delirious all at once.

“Come for me,” He released Sherlock's hip, pressed deeper into the mattress as Sherlock wrapped tighter around his torso, right there with him when the force of his ejaculation tightened his around John as Sherlock went him to pieces.

"Oh, John...” Sherlock kissed him back softly before John sweetly kissed his face as well as he curled Sherlock into his arms John brought the covers up to their ribs. “What have we done?”

Sherlock did not think he could feel more fully loved…knowing this was no longer impossible.

“What we have both wanted for a very long time, I believe.”

**Author's Note:**

> Written 2012. Originally posted on FF.


End file.
